


The Eye of the Beholder

by PunishedPyotr



Series: Only Ones and Zeros [7]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Altered Appearance, Fluff, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of Clothing, Illustrated, Insecurity, pretty Mantis, reupload, very brief reference to implied past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 02:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunishedPyotr/pseuds/PunishedPyotr
Summary: This being technically not a real body, Mantis is free to do as he likes with his appearance. Awkwardness ensues.





	The Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork generously provided by [@quite_the_mutt](http://www.pictaram.com/user/quite_the_mutt/4095072269)! (Sorry for the Pictaram link, I don't actually have an Instagram account myself.)

“You know, I am not sure.”

Liquid glances at Mantis at his abrupt words, unclear about what he’s referring to.

“What you have been thinking about lately,” Mantis clarifies. That doesn’t really narrow it down, though, so Mantis sighs and says, “about me possibly being able to change my appearance.”

“Oh, right,” Liquid says. “I mean, it would make sense if you could, wouldn’t it? Because this-“ he touches Mantis’ arm- “isn’t really your body, per se. Your body’s in the real world,  _this_  is just some kind of mental projection of yourself that seems entirely tangible to you and I because of… something about the VR programming…”

Mantis isn’t surprised by the fact that Liquid followed the explanation up until computers got involved. He was never  _terrible_  at them, but the fact that he’s mediocre at best when it comes to that sort of thing (not that he’d ever admit that) is amusingly ironic now.

Mantis shakes his head. “I have never tried.”

“Really? Not even once?”

“No. It’s never crossed my mind.”

Liquid scrutinizes him for a second, and Mantis puts his hands over his before he can follow through on his impulse to take off Mantis’ mask. Liquid frowns. Pouting. A grown man and a lifelong solder, and he’s  _pouting_.

Mantis’ lips press together behind the mask and he lets go, and Liquid wastes no time in unbuckling the thing and setting it aside. He studies Mantis’ face again. Mantis leans back slightly, not quite comfortable with this.

“Never?” Liquid says, raising an eyebrow.

“Why should it?” Mantis replies, tetchy.

“I didn’t mean—“ Liquid starts, grabbing Mantis’ hands, “you know  _I_  don’t mind how your face looks. You  _know_  that. Don’t you?”

Mantis begrudgingly nods. Of course he knows, even if he’s never exactly understood it. Liquid’s just strange like that.

“I just know, Mantis, how you can be so… so insecure about it sometimes. I’m surprised you never, well, tried to ‘fix’ it. Just to see what it’s like, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mantis says. “What my face looks like is irrelevant under the mask.”

“You don’t wear your mask  _all_  the time.”

“Because  _you_  keep removing it.”

Liquid shakes his head, scoffing, and lets go of Mantis’ hands, folding his arms instead. “Anyway, Mantis, this isn’t even about your face either way.”

“Hm.” Not according to his thoughts.

“I just find it rather morbid that you’d choose to appear exactly as you were the day you died,” Liquid insists, “at the very  _least_  you could dress a little more casually.”

Mantis doesn’t mind morbidness, but nonetheless the next time he enters the simulation he takes care to appear the way he did in life when there wasn’t anything in particular going on for the day: roughly the same pants and boots, but a loose black tank-top, and flared-wrist gloves rather like Liquid’s. Liquid grins when he sees him, but then, that’s par for the course.

“Satisfied?” Mantis says.

“Marginally. What else can you do?”

Mantis rolls his eyes and changes the subject.

But they end up coming back to it later, somehow. Mostly because Liquid’s burning with curiosity, and an odd little kind of nostalgia; now that he knows for sure that the possibility is  _there_ , he’s wanting to see Mantis again as a younger man, in what was technically his prime.

It’s stupid, Mantis thinks. He was only, what, thirty? when he died. (Of course, his age has always been ambiguous, but both he and Liquid considered the assumption that Mantis was two years younger to be a reasonable one, and Mantis had been casually using Liquid’s birthday as his own for ages.) Thirty is hardly ancient. Still young by most accounts, in fact.

Besides, his whole remembered life he’s been malnourished and scarred. His age doesn’t really  _matter_ , he’s always looked like this.

So he plays along with Liquid’s silly fascination. His body flickers briefly and he looks now like he did a bit over a year before he and Liquid joined FOXHOUND, back when Liquid was scraping by as a mercenary in the Middle East and Mantis was making bank travelling around the world as a psychic spy.

The first thing Mantis realizes is that he’d actually gained weight after he joined FOXHOUND. It wasn’t enough that he ever noticed it — because he never bothered with scales or anything like that — but now that it’s  _gone_  again, Mantis is aware of how  _emaciated_  he was back then.

Liquid notices it too, raising his eyebrows.

“Well,” he says, walking around Mantis to inspect him from all angles, “I suppose even though we visited each other as often as we could, I still wasn’t around often enough to remind you to eat something once in a while.”

“You probably have a point,” Mantis says.

“I should have reminded you over the phone…” He  _had_  called almost every day, that might have done it. But more likely Mantis wouldn’t have listened.

Mantis looks down at himself, vaguely appalled at how he dressed back then. Again, not much change in the way of pants and boots, but he’s now wearing a close-fitting black shirt that bares his midriff and shoulders, with sleeves that go down to his elbows, and nothing to cover his hands. The long scar down his torso and the burn-marks on his stomach, lower back, and wrists are perfectly visible like this. And why did he ever think it was a good idea to wear a buckled leather collar? Liquid glances at it and thinks, smirking,  _Kinky_ , and Mantis gives him a sharp look.

Liquid remembers something about that outfit.

_Oh, no_ , Mantis thinks, “that was not intentional, Eli.”

“Really?” Liquid says with a mischievous smile. It’s the same outfit Mantis wore that night in Liquid’s ratty hotel room just outside Tehran, when Mantis took it upon himself to prove that Liquid wasn’t too defiled to touch after what happened to him while he was being held hostage in Iraq for three (nearly four) years.

Liquid’s playful leer fades slightly at the thought of that, but then something else occurs to him and he’s successfully distracted without Mantis even having to say anything. “What did you look like back then, while I was gone?”

Mantis cocks his head and flickers. He looks a few months shy of eighteen now, and this was back when he worked for the FBI, before the whole ‘accidentally parasitizing a serial killer and going on a rampage, and subsequently getting stuck with the personality even when freed’ thing that got him fired. This was back when he actually had to look presentable for court every so often, so he’s clothed as such: black dress pants in the smallest size they had, the cuffs of which had to be let out, combat boots tucked underneath them, and a dark gray turtleneck sweater that kind of hangs off his body pathetically. He’s not wearing his gas mask anymore, instead a thin surgical mask — gas masks weren’t acceptable up on the stand, and this was the temporary solution offered. He always ended the day with a severe migraine.

“I’m taller than you again,” Liquid says in surprise, and  _of course_  that’s the first thing he notices even though it’s only a matter of probably less than two centimeters, and then he realizes, “and you’ve got  _hair_.”

“I didn’t shave it off until after the serial killer incident,” Mantis explains. It wasn’t much of a loss. As it stands his hair is extremely short and generously described as patchy.

“It’s good to see it again, I’ve always liked it,” Liquid says, and Mantis doesn’t bother to stop him as he picks him up by the waist. “The mask is cute, too. You look almost  _normal._ ”

Mantis rolls his eyes.

Fortunately Liquid’s had his fill of this nonsense after that and never requests that Mantis change his appearance to how he looked when they first met, because Mantis would have drawn the line there. In fact, after Liquid unhooks the surgical mask from around his ears and stares at Mantis for a few seconds, he asks Mantis to look like an adult again, because this is a little weird. And then he kisses him, his hands warm against Mantis’ exposed back.

The next time Mantis returns to the virtual Shadow Moses, he once again defaults to what he looked like the day Solid Snake infiltrated the island. Liquid hardly notices. For one thing, it’s been close to a  _week_  since he last saw Mantis — the girl had some intensive training that left both of them absolutely strung out for days — and besides, Liquid has a new idea now.

“Eli, please. I just want to rest.”

“Oh, I know,” Liquid says, taking Mantis by the shoulders and marching him inside, “I thought it’d been a long week for you. Ah, but yesterday I figured out how to reset the hostile AIs by myself, so you needn’t worry about that anymore. I’m completely fine on my own so long as you come back  _eventually_.”

“Good to know,” Mantis mutters.

Liquid lets Mantis relax and unwind for a while, but he’s the sort of person who, once he gets an idea in his head, really can’t let go of it and Mantis eventually gets tired of hearing it in his thoughts.

“That is  _stupid_ , Eli,” he says, “I have no interest in it.”

“Just once?” Liquid says, leaning over the back of the couch Mantis is lounging on. “Just to see what it’s like?”

“I do not  _care_  what it’s like.”

“Well… _I_  want to see it. Just for a minute. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“No.”

“Come on.”

Mantis glares at him, annoyed.

“Look, this is your  _chance_ ,” Liquid says, “you’ve always hated your scars, but you don’t have to have them anymore. You’ve told me before that you don’t remember what you looked like before you got any of them, but you could  _find out_  now.”

“Eli, my body here is just a mental projection. It would not be my definitive appearance if I had grown up normally, it would just be how I imagine I would look in that case.”

“Made  _tangible_ , Mantis. And you might prefer it, you never know.”

Mantis leans his head back, sighing for a long time. There’s really no winning with this man, is there?

“I mean, if you  _really_  don’t want to…” Liquid starts, somewhat insincerely.

Mantis flickers. He’s got a full head of bright red hair now instead of being bald and Liquid immediately buries his fingers in it, grinning, and Mantis does nothing to stop him. He’s happy, so what does it matter…? If anything, the joy radiating off of Liquid is really the best possible way for Mantis to recover from being forcibly pumped full of drugs so recently.

Liquid moves to take off Mantis’ gas mask, then changes his mind, instead picking up Mantis bridal-style and walking out of the break room.

“Really?” Mantis says dryly.

“I want you to see, too,” he replies.

He takes Mantis to the nearest bathroom and sets him down in front of one of the sinks, then steps back, letting him have the mirror to himself. Mantis glances at him - he makes a little ‘go on’ gesture — and reluctantly unclasps his mask, setting it on the counter.

Mantis is so busy staring at himself that he doesn’t notice Liquid’s jaw drop.

“You’re  _pretty_ ,” he says.

Mantis has no idea how to feel about this, and turning to Liquid’s feelings to make up his mind about it doesn’t help, because Liquid is also conflicted. Yes, Mantis is pretty now, but he finds it strange and he barely recognizes him. Mantis turns his way, and Liquid makes an abortive move to touch his face.

“This is weird,” he murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“…do you remember the first time you showed me your face?”

“You said I was ugly. But… you also said that it did not matter, because plenty of people are ugly, and that did not mean anyone should treat me badly because of it.”

“Right,” Liquid says. He touches a finger to the tip of Mantis’ nose — he can hardly believe it’s real, although, Mantis supposes, it really isn’t. “I never thought people should treat you like you were inferior because of your looks. I know what it’s like to be treated that way — but with you, it’s only skin deep. Or, cartilage deep, I suppose. Still, it doesn’t compare to being inferior on a  _genetic_  level, so why should anyone treat you the same way?”

“Eli…”

“Besides, I really did grow to like your face, Mantis.” He brushes a curl of hair away from his cheek, his eyes tracing across Mantis’ freckles. “How do you like it? You seem uncertain.”

“I am uncertain.”

“Are you going to change back?”

Mantis glances in the mirror again. “I… suppose I will just stay like this for a while. Perhaps I will adjust to it. You were not wrong, I  _might_  prefer this face in the end.”

When he leaves the bathroom, Liquid grabs his gas mask for him, just in case.

Screaming Mantis was still sedated when Mantis left for the network, so he has a few days at least to spend with Liquid. He does so with no mask and his new face, and there is a lot of staring on Liquid’s end, and Mantis spends a lot of time looking at his own reflection in Liquid’s mind.

He just can’t get used to it. Neither of them can.

It’s so  _weird_.

It’s hard to adjust from hating his appearance so much he actively hid his face, to being  _pretty_. Mantis has no idea how to handle it and Liquid’s not really helping, just kind of removing himself from the situation and letting Mantis figure this out for himself. (Granted, that’s probably the best thing  _to_  do in this situation, but on those nowadays-very-rare occasions when Mantis feels lost, he really, really just wants Liquid to tell him what to do.)

Mantis is sitting in the commander’s room rereading some Kafka - every book here is either public domain or lorem ipsum, which Mantis wasn’t surprised to find out — Liquid sits on the desk in front of him and, once Mantis looks up at him, puts a hand to his face and gently rubs a thumb over the soft, perfect skin of his cheek.

“Do you like it?” Liquid asks again.

“I don’t look like myself.”

“I know. You don’t. But do you think you look better?”

“Do  _you_  think I look better?”

The corner of Liquid’s mouth twitches. “Objectively, yes. But… I don’t know, this sort of look seems unsuiting somehow. Er, not that I mean you aren’t- huh— no offense intended, Mantis. Nevermind. You look good; I like it, I think.”

“Ah,” Mantis says wryly, “so you’ve grown fond of a version of me  _lacking_  the obvious faults?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Eli, for as long as you are stubborn enough to think that the AI version of you was somehow rid of your flaws, I will continue to mock you for it. Believe me, it is not true.”

“Mph.”

Despite his irritation, or rather because of it, Liquid leans forward and kisses Mantis on the mouth, but frowns against against him after a moment. The texture of Mantis’ lips is different: there are no old stitches, no scar tissue, and they’re not even dry and chapped anymore. And Liquid has literally never kissed a healthy set of lips before, he’s been committed to Mantis for so long.

Honestly, the weirdest thing about this is that Mantis really had been thinking that Liquid would prefer him without the mutilations.

“Eli, I want to be alone for a few minutes.”

“…alright.”

Mantis drifts off to the bathroom again, leaving Liquid sitting by himself in the commander’s room, idly leafing through the book of short stories Mantis was just reading without really concentrating on the words.

Mantis grips the sides of the sink and stares at himself in the mirror.

God. He’s  _beautiful_. It isn’t right.

But maybe it isn’t wrong, either. Mantis never  _asked_  for his scars, after all. He never meant to burn down his village, he sobbed for days after the vivisections, and force-feeding was by its nature nonconsensual. He’d heard a lot of people think over the years that humans, or at the very least children, have the fundamental right to be happy with themselves — and he’d always found that view naïve but if that were so then surely Mantis  _deserves_  some respite from having that so-called right stripped away from him when he was barely old enough to talk.

Mantis deserves to have a face and body that’s never been marred, never been polluted. Never been touched.

He’s entitled to it. He was an innocent child once, too.

He  _should_  be beautiful.

* * *

Mantis walks back into the commander’s room and and stands behind the desk. Liquid glances up from his book — he’d migrated to the footwell of the desk, so he can only see Mantis’ legs at the moment.

He hears him pick up the gas mask.

“Something wrong, Mantis?” Liquid says.

“It’s fine.”

Liquid puts down the book and crawls halfway out, looking up at Mantis, and he’s surprised to see, in the fleeting moment before Mantis straps his mask back on, the same face that Mantis has always had.

The sound of Mantis’ breathing through the filter of the mask seems extra loud in the quiet of the room.

Eventually Liquid says, “You could at least keep the hair.”

Mantis chuckles dryly. “‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ Eli.”

He sits down on the chair, and Liquid kneels, resting his chin on Mantis’ knee, still looking up at him.  _I thought you would have_ liked  _to be pretty_ , he thinks.

Mantis runs his fingers through Liquid’s hair. “I thought I would have, too. But it was not  _my_  face I saw in the mirror. I do not know whose it was, but it was not me.”

“Hm.”

And here Liquid was all ready to get used to the new look, and then Mantis had to go and do this. Well, as paradoxical as it is, Mantis seems more comfortable like this. Apparently it’s better to be hated and familiar than pleasant but alien and not quite right.

Maybe there’s a moral here somewhere.

_As long as you’re happy like this_ , he thinks dubiously.

“I think you just learned the wrong lesson,” Mantis sighs. “But — yes, this is better. Either way, I would rather not think about it. It really does not matter.”

_Either way, as far as_ I’m _concerned, you’re attractive. I learned to like your scars, I could have learned to like perfect skin and delicate features, too…_ Liquid closes his eyes.  _I just like_ you,  _Mantis. This whole thing was rather silly, wasn’t it?_

Somehow he knows Mantis is smiling behind his mask, rough-carved corners of his mouth twitching up sardonically. “Yes,” he says, “it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mantis' casual outfit is based off of [this concept art (WARNING: NUDES)](https://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/metalgear/images/6/69/MetalGear088.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130323090909), down in the bottom right. His "a bit over a year before he and Liquid joined FOXHOUND" outfit is in fact the outfit from _We're Only Human, After All_.  
>  By the way, the reference to force-feeding is because I headcanon the scars on Mantis' cheeks and his missing nose to be because of a botched force-feeding incident while he was being studied. It's related to my headcanon that Mantis physiologically doesn't need to eat quite as often as a normal person - but that wouldn't be immediately evident, hence why force-feeding would be attempted.
> 
> ((any and all comments will be forewarded to aireyv! i will either copy/paste their reply to me or they will reply on their own account! have a nice day!!! if you have any questions, just ask!!!!)


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